


Backseat Holland Ride

by holeofholland



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Actor Tom Holland, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, Chance Meetings, Clothed Sex, Coffee Shops, Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fucking, Hardcore, Hook-Up, M/M, Making Out, Moaning, On Set, One Night Stands, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Quickies, RPF, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Sex in a Car, Stranger Sex, Tom Films Cherry, Verbal Sex, genderless reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holeofholland/pseuds/holeofholland
Summary: As a simple barista in a small rural town your days are spent filling plastic cups with too hot coffee and battling annoying customers. Nothing exciting ever seems to happen for you. That is, until the day famed movie actor Tom Holland enters your shop, looking for something a little stronger than a latte.NC-17 for explicit sexual intercourse and mild language.
Relationships: Tom Holland (Actor)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Backseat Holland Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unique in that it does not specify a gender for the "reader." Anyone can enjoy placing themselves in the words. Also, the setting for this story is in Ohio during the filming of _Cherry_.

You lean against the granite counter top, hand draped lazily over the cash register's keys. In front of you stands your sixteenth customer of the day, a graying man with a receding hairline and square framed glasses. He hums to himself as he scratches his beard and gazes at that large menu mounted behind you. It's customers like him -- the ones who take too long to order -- that make you do nonsensical things like tally the number of people who enter the cramped cafe. 

"Our specials are..." you begin blandly, a feeble attempt to hurry the man along.

He shushes you with a wave of a wrinkled hand. "I'm still looking."

"Right." You roll your eyes and begin tapping your fingers against the granite. It's another habit you've picked up from working this minimum wage job.

"Ahem," a tiny voice squeaks from behind the older man. You glance at young woman -- no more older than the average college student -- and mouth the words "Sorry" to her. She nods, accepting that the stall isn't your fault.

"Sir," you try again, "there are people behind you."

"I waited. So can they."

"Yes, sir, but maybe you'd like to step aside while you think about your order?"

The man releases a grunt that almost sounds like a tiger's growl but steps aside anyway. By the time you've taken two more orders -- the college girl and a young boy wanting cake pops -- the man is finally ready.

"A black coffee, I guess." He fumbles in his pocket for his wallet. You can't believe how long it took for such a simple order and almost contemplate overcharging the man out of spite, but he'd probably figure you out. Instead, you punch in the order and accept a five dollar bill. 

"I want the change," the man says, watching you count out nickles and quarters. 

" _Of course_ ," you hiss, practically throwing the change on the counter. "Please step to the next line and await your order. _Have a nice day_." The man stalks away. Under your breath, you whisper, "What an asshole."

"Yeah, he was," a new voice agrees.

You look sharply to your newest customer -- number nineteen -- and smile apologetically. "I-I, uh, didn't - didn't mean that."

"Yeah, you do," the customer nods, then grins widely. "It's okay. I've seen some rude people in here."

A wave of relief hits you. "Thank god you're not a nark."

"A nark?"

"Yeah..." you say, dragging the word out with suspicion. "You know, someone who rats others out. A tattle-tale if you like."

"Oh, right, right. Yeah, no, I know a nark."

Something catches your attention about the customer. He's a young man -- no older than twenty-five -- with a buzz cut and black sunglasses. His nose is curved slightly upward in a button shape and his lips are thinner than most.

"Your accent..." You're trying to approach the subject without seeming odd. "It's not from around here."

"No?" the man scratches the back of his neck. As he reaches his arm up, you glance his tee-shirt ride up. A flash of smooth skin sends your head swimming suddenly. It's almost as if you've never seen a guy's stomach before -- ridiculous.

"Uh, no. It's almost New York. Maybe Boston or Queens?"

"Damn it," the man curses. "I thought I had it down."

You look over the man's shoulder. No customers, thankfully. "Uh, had what down? Your accent?"

"Look, please don't say anything. I know you know."

"Know what...?" Then, it hits you. You saw the photo on Instagram so it really shouldn't be a surprise. The shaved head, the button nose, the ears that now stand out a little more prominently.

"Holy shit," you breathe, "you're Tom Holland."

"Shush!" The man glances around frantically, but no one has seemed to notice. "Okay, yes." He's dropped the American accent, returning to the British voice you'd recognize a mile away. "You can't make a big deal out of this, please. I'll sign whatever, just please don't blow my cover."

"Wait, wait, wait. So, you're the one with that film crew down the street? I thought that was some stupid student film."

"Okay, first of all, ouch. Student films are where I started. Secondly, yes, that's me. We're filming 'Cherry.'"

"Then, what are you doing here?"

Tom shrugs. "Honestly, it was a little stressful. That character is a lot to take in. I just needed a break. Just this conversation has been a weight lifted. The only human contact I've had is with the cast and crew."

An idea hits you. "Well, I'm off in, like, fifteen minutes. If you want, we could go out back and chat? I mean, that's only if you want to. I know you're busy."

"No, no, no." He smiles widely, his eyes crinkling around the glasses. "I'd love that."

"Great!" You start punching in two caramel lattes into the register. "I'll make these two my last orders and meet you there in fifteen, okay?"

"Sounds great. See you then."

Tom turns and walks out of the cafe. As he does, you can't help but admire the way his jeans hug his backside. It's so distracting, you ring up the coffees three times.

+++

"So, this is different," Tom notes as you hand him a piping hot cup and sit down beside him on the employee smoking bench.

You gingerly sip at the latte, whipped cream coating your upper lip. "Yeah, I suppose it is. I didn't expect to meet a star today."

"Ugh, please don't call me that."

"A star? What would you rather be, then? A celebrity?"

Tom fakes gagging. "None of it. I'd just like to be a normal guy drinking a coffee once in a while."

"I can understand that." You look at Tom and notice he's removed his sunglasses now. His brown eyes mirror the hot chocolate you're so custom to making for the children who enter the cafe. 

He smirks without turning to you. "What are you staring at?"

"Uh, nothing. Um, sorry, I didn't mean to --."

He shakes his head but he's laughing. "It's fine. Really."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He sips at his coffee and makes a sound that indicates he likes the drink you've chosen. "You know, it's kind of nice to have someone look at me nervously. You have no clue how many people look at me as if I'm going to toss them over a table where they stand."

You laugh. "I bet you have a lot of people throwing themselves at you, huh?"

"All the time." You're both laughing now. Tom throws his head back and his eyes squint shut. You admire how happy he seems compared to earlier. He must notice you staring because he lowers his head and looks directly into your eyes, still laughing. 

As the laughter dies down, you take another sip of your latte. More whipped cream attaches to your lip. You reach your thumb up to swipe it away, but before you can Tom intercepts it. Before you have any idea what's happening, Tom's on you.

Your lips connect and you fall into each other. As your mouths part and your tongues find one another, you taste the sweetest of the whipped cream. Tom's hand, calloused from countless hours of filming, cups your cheek. You wedge your knee between his thighs and close the gap between you both.

And before you know it, the kiss is over. Tom pulls back and runs his hand through the stubble on his head.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He trails off, unable to find the right words.

"It's okay," you assure him. "That was exactly what I needed."

He chuckles nervously. "Yeah, me too. But, I don't want you to think I used you for that."

"You could never use me for anything." Then, because the kiss is making you feel brave, you decide to add, "You could do anything to me and I wouldn't care."

"R-Really?" His hand finds its way back to your cheek. "Anything?"

You smirk, then fish into your pocket for your keys. You dangle them in front of Tom's face. "My car is in the far back of the lot."

"No one would see?"

"Eh," you shrug, "maybe a squirrel or two."

He kisses you once more, then pulls you to your feet. "Lead the way."

+++

"Lock the doors," Tom urges you, lounging on the backseat of your car. You roll your eyes at his nervousness and climb up onto his thighs. With the door shut and locked behind you, you begin running your hands up and down Tom's chest, bringing his shirt with your palms.

"I can't believe this is happening," you whisper excitedly.

Tom sighs with pleasure and closes his eyes. "I've needed this."

"Yeah?" You yank the black t-shirt up over Tom's head so that it hugs him like a vest. "Fuck, your body is..." The right words just don't come to mind.

"You like it?" he winks. 

You answer by leaning down and running your tongue between his pecs. Against his now wet chest, you breathe, "I love it."

You continue exploring Tom's body with your tongue, swirling around his hardened nipples and nibbling on his collarbones. All the while, Tom runs his hands down your lower back and just into your pants. Against your thighs, you can feel his erection growing stronger. Your own excitement is too much to handle and you start lowering you tongue to his belly button...hipbone...jeans button.

"You're sure?" Tom asks, massaging his thumb against your jaw. 

You nod. "More than sure."

With that, Tom undoes his jeans and pulls them down just enough to allow you access. Through his skintight boxer briefs, his shaft is perfectly imprinted. You rub your palm against it and feel something sticky grab onto you.

"Your webs?" you tease, bringing your hand to your mouth and licking it.

Tom's hips buck up. "Yeah, and there's plenty more where that came from."

That one sentence is enough to absolutely destroy you. You reach and yank Tom's erection free. It springs up, nearly smacking his stomach. Before he can react, you reach down and begin stroking. Slowly at first, but you quickly pick up pace until Tom is moaning. Then, you pull him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the leaking head, making Tom buck even harder. You know exactly what he wants and you plan to give it to him.

"More, baby," he shudders, placing his hands on the back of your head.

You don't hesitate. With an ease that comes naturally to you, you bring Tom farther into your mouth. Once you feel his tip touch the back of your throat, you start humming. This sends Tom over the edge.

"Fuck, you're too good," he moans, shoving your head farther down. 

You rise back up, swirl your tongue around the sopping tip, then go back down. A pattern of this repeats a few times, earning Tom's moaned approval. When you've got him practically throbbing, you turn your attention to his underneath, pulling his sack between your lips and sucking. 

"I'm gonna come, baby," Tom suddenly announces.

You raise up and stare at him with wet lips. "Oh, no. I'm not done, yet."

Tom shakes his head. "N-no."

"What else?" you ask, licking his precome from your mouth.

"I want to fuck you, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You lean so that your mouth is right against his ear. " _I want you inside me_."

Tom nods frantically and begins fumbling with your shorts. With some maneuvering and yoga-like moves, Tom manages to remove your bottoms. With your sex exposed and ready, Tom wastes no time slipping a finger inside of you. You yelp as he does, surprised but even more aroused.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, sliding a second finger in. He begins working them, hitting all the right spots and causing somersaults in your stomach.

"I can't take it," you moan, "I want your cock in me."

Tom doesn't say anything but removes his fingers. As you stare directly in his eyes, you feel his hard tip pass through your entrance. You gasp and lean your hands against Tom's chest to stable yourself. He doesn't stop, though. He slides further and further inside until your thighs touch. You're almost shaking at his massive length filling you.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asks in a seductive tone.

You nod. "Fill me up, Tom."

In seconds, you've found a rhythm with each other. Your bodies connect and your sexes ignite in passion. Tom latches onto your thighs and grunts hungrily as you bounce on him. You latch onto his pecs, twisting and pinching the nipples as you moan against his size. Around you, the car's windows begin to fog. The compact space fills with the scent of your togetherness. Pretty soon, you feel yourself reaching the point of no return.

"I'm almost there," you bellow, not caring anymore if people can hear.

"Yeah, baby," he encourages, holding you still and thrusting rapidly.

"Fuck, I'm coming!" Your whole body shakes and a shiver runs up your spine as you find release. At the same time, you feel Tom throb inside you. Then, you fill his come.

Spurt after spurt, his hot cream coats your insides. It's more than you could ever expect, leaking out onto his thighs. As your climaxes taper, you fall against Tom's sweaty chest. He runs his hands through your hair and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"That was just what I ordered," he says.

You play with a couple curls of hair growing on his nipple and giggle. "Glad I could be of service. Come again anytime."

Outside of the car, still on the smoking bench sits your lattes. They've grown cold and undrinkable. It doesn't matter, though. A latte was never what Tom had in mind when he saw you.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-Da! There you have it. I have never written a story like this, meaning one in which the romantic interest is the reader. I actually kind of preferred writing it in this POV. Tell me what you thought! Should I write more like this?
> 
> Remember to follow my twitter @holeofholland for more stuff like my stories including sneak-peeks and extras! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! xx


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